


'Cause It's You and Me, Baby

by yamamamoto



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamamamoto/pseuds/yamamamoto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an 8059 secret santa gift one-shot fic dedicated to the wonderful laura! xoxo i love you and merry xmas!</p><p>"It doesn't take much to make Yamamoto happy; he's a simple guy, after all, anyone would agree - and the look that he catches on Gokudera's face before turning forward again (a half-hearted scowl, an eyeroll for good measure, brows furrowed so that those three lines appear between them) makes him feel light. Makes him beam at the T.V. despite there being nothing even remotely funny, makes him want to stand and walk around the couch and press a kiss to those wrinkles because he's just as fond of them as he is of the boy they belong to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Cause It's You and Me, Baby

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

There's mindless monotony in the way he presses the button to switch channels. _Click._ Nothing catches his eye. _Click._ Nothing holds his attention. _Click._ There's something far more interesting nearby, but he can't take advantage of it.

"What are you doing?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Isn't that the phrase?

Yamamoto hangs his head back over the edge of the sofa and manages to look at Gokudera upside-down. "Playing soccer," he answers teasingly, because it's obvious what he's doing - as obvious as his own amusement at his little joke when he lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, settling back against the cushions of the couch with a content sound following the end of his laugh.

It doesn't take much to make Yamamoto happy; he's a simple guy, after all, anyone would agree - and the look that he catches on Gokudera's face before turning forward again (a half-hearted scowl, an eyeroll for good measure, brows furrowed so that those three lines appear between them) makes him feel light. Makes him beam at the T.V. despite there being nothing even remotely funny, makes him want to stand and walk around the couch and press a kiss to those wrinkles because he's just as fond of them as he is of the boy they belong to.

He settles further into the couch, instead.

 _Click. Click._ He stops and tilts his head as the baseball player on the television slides to second base. As expected, he hears a groan behind him, and the clink of metal as Gokudera runs his fingers through his hair, the movement sending the bracelets and cuffs around each wrist bumping into each other. Yamamoto doesn't even have to look to know what's happening; he's seen it so many times that it's right there in his mind's eye, all too easy to imagine, if only because at the forefront of his thoughts is where Gokudera usually is anyway.

Gokudera's voice is more of a growl this time. "If you _have_ to watch T.V., can't it be fucking _anything_ but baseball?" Yamamoto's pretty sure he's heard those exact words from Gokudera before, in the very same order. He's sure all of this has happened multiple times. There's comfort in the familiar, but then there's restlessness.

Restlessness! In Yamamoto, who seems the type to be most comfortable in routine, in the predictable. And he usually is, really, but in this he wants to shake it up. He wants to grab Gokudera and shake _him_ , that's what he wants to do. His fingers itch for it; they itch to reach out, to wrap around the Storm Guardian's upper arms, to pull him close-- 

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, the sound of it drowned out by cheering from the baseball game. He turns the volume up for good measure, which only pulls another irritated noise from the other young man - not part of the plan to get a rise out of him, but it works in Yamamoto's favor all the same. 

It's a close call, but Yamamoto's reaction time is just a little faster than Gokudera's when an arm shoots over his shoulder, going for the remote in his hand; maybe it's the extensive training with the sword, maybe it's his skill in baseball, but something gives him the edge - at least this time, because Gokudera's got his own training to fall back on (a lot more than Yamamoto has ever had, he knows, but he has always picked things up with annoying ease, at least where the physical is involved) - and he lunges forward, sliding off the edge of the couch and standing, glancing over his shoulder at the other guardian. 

"Huh? What's up?" Yamamoto asks, and there's something _too_ casual in his tone, so nonchalant that it's obviously put on. "Did you want to watch something?" 

If Gokudera were a cat, his back would be arched and his hair would be standing on end right now. Despite the lack of fur, though, he manages to look feline anyway, especially when he starts moving. _Right_ toward Yamamoto. "Don't give me that shit, baseball idiot!" he snaps, going for the remote again. This time, Yamamoto's arm shoots behind his own back, long fingers twirling the remote in them, a grin curling the corners of his lips no matter how hard he tries to keep it away. 

"What are you, some kid? Give me that!"

"You know, Hayato, you really should learn to say please! It'll get you a lot farther--"

"Don't call me that! What the hell is your problem, moron, give it--"

"Are you getting slower? Tsuna's gonna have to put you on more missions so you don't let yourself go--"

"I'm gonna _kill_ you!"

"Okay," Yamamoto says finally, his eyes bright and his heart beating a little faster and his breath a little shorter from running all around the room, Gokudera at his heels the entire time. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you what-- I'll stand still. Right here. And if you can get the remote from me... It's yours." A pause, and he catches Gokudera's gaze with his own, and the Storm Guardian's gaze is more like lightening. "Deal?"

There's silence for a moment as Gokudera, ever the thinker, weighs his options. That's like him, isn't it, Yamamoto thinks fondly. Making an informed decision, right? Instead of jumping right in? That's why he's Tsuna's right hand man. That's why-- "Fine."

Yamamoto raises his brows. "Fine?"

"Fine." 

The remote, previously behind Yamamoto's back for the second time, comes forward. Yamamoto tosses it into the air, watching it spin a few times before falling right back into his palm, the throw effortless and practiced. "Fine," he repeats for the final time, laughter in his voice-- and then he lifts his arm, stretches it above him as far as it can go with the bottom of the remote only just clutched in his fingers. That puts the thing way higher than Gokudera can reach - maybe even higher than Gokudera can _jump_ , or at least Yamamoto hopes so.

Mouth in a thin, downturned line, Gokudera tries his best to jump. Once, twice, three times before letting out a sound of frustration, his feet firmly on the ground again. And then he tries a different method; he grabs Yamamoto's arm and tries to pull it close, but the so-called baseball idiot simply switches the remote to the other hand and holds it just as high with that one. Every once in a while, as the seconds pass, Gokudera spits out a curse, or at least something so acidic that it sounds like one, and it only makes Yamamoto smile even wider.

Next, Gokudera tries climbing. Yamamoto blinks in surprise, the other boy so _very_ close, his every sense so _full_ of Gokudera, but the Rain Guardian at least has the presence of mind to plant his feet and brace himself. 

But Gokudera doesn't get far. He slips off, or only gets high enough to brush his fingertips against the inside of Yamamoto's wrist (the skin there is thin and sensitive and Yamamoto has to wonder if the other guardian can feel the way his pulse flutters underneath it), but never manages to even touch the remote. 

"I guess that's that," Yamamoto says finally, and gives Gokudera an expectant look. He has to surrender now, right? He has to admit that he's been beaten.

Yamamoto should have known better.

With a darkening scowl and narrowed eyes and a low rumbling in his chest, Gokudera takes a step back. Yamamoto's frozen, a look of confusion coming to his plain features - but then, when Gokudera takes one more step back and then tenses, the realization hits him - and then _Gokudera_ hits him, and he didn't have a chance of getting out of the way. He's tackled to the ground, the carpet some relief though the air is knocked from his lungs regardless, and Gokudera's on top of him and grabbing for the remote. A laugh bursts from Yamamoto, something far more surprised than amused, and he uses what strength he has in his surprise to try to wriggle away. He almost manages it, too, but then Gokudera's pushing him down again--

Only this time, with a dull sound that would make anyone's heart drop into their stomach, Yamamoto's head collides with the edge of the nearby coffee table. The remote falls from his fingers and he automatically brings both hands up to his head, a short moan of pain falling from his lips. There's a throbbing above his temple, just past his hairline, and even though it hurts really badly, he can't help but lament that the collision had ended their game.

"Shit--" 

That definitely wasn't Yamamoto's own voice. There are fingers grabbing at his wrists, pushing his hands away, and then those fingers slide into his hair and press gently and feel around the bump already forming. Yamamoto doesn't know when he'd closed his eyes, but he opens them now and blinks a few times at the face that hovers above his own - a face full of concern, of worry, of remnants of anger that Yamamoto knows are for Gokudera himself. Gray eyes shift to meet Yamamoto's brown ones and the Rain Guardian can see the muscles in the other boy's jaws working as he clenches his teeth.

With a tiny grunt, Yamamoto tilts his head back, maybe to look at the hands that are still in his hair, but before he can get far Gokudera grabs onto his jaw and forces his eyes back so that they're staring at one another again. "Can you see all right?" Gokudera asks gruffly, the fingertips of one hand still gently rubbing at the tender spot on Yamamoto's head.

"Yeah," is his breathless reply. Gokudera narrows his eyes and leans down, examining Yamamoto's, turning his head this way and that to watch the way they follow - because why would Yamamoto look away now? Their faces are so close and Yamamoto's seeing Gokudera in such amazing detail that nothing could tear his gaze away.

Maybe it's the intensity with which Yamamoto is looking that makes Gokudera stop completely, hands remaining where they are - one tangled in Yamamoto's hair, the other now gently cupping his jaw - and those wrinkles between his brows disappearing for something a little softer. It's not fondless in the smoothness of that face but shock, bewilderment, maybe a little embarrassment. 

The pain in Yamamoto's head is forgotten for the knocking of his heart against his ribcage in a faster and faster tattoo, for the tingling in his arms that urge him to lift them, to slide his palms over the legs that still straddle him. It's not absolute silence, the baseball game still playing in the background, but the T.V. might as well be off at this point for how little attention either of them are paying it. They remain motionless for Yamamoto doesn't know how long, until he has to part his lips to take in a slightly shaking breath.

That small noise is what breaks the spell. Gokudera's brows shoot up and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly, shaking his head. When his eyes snap open again, there's something Yamamoto hopes is regret there before that characteristic look of irritation returns to it.

"Maybe if you acted less like a kid--" Gokudera manages to say, the edges of his words dulled and just a little dazed. The young man leans over Yamamoto and grabs the abandoned remote, and with a _click_ the room is plunged into actual silence. It feels heavy, but Yamamoto welcomes the weight of it.

He'd wanted unpredictable, right? This entire thing was it.

But then Gokudera goes ahead and is predictable again. 

The Storm Guardian pulls himself up off of Yamamoto (he's satisfied to see that the other boy's legs are just a little shaky and it takes him a moment to find his footing) and stands, knuckles white with how hard he's holding onto the remote. "Maybe if you acted less like a kid," he repeats, then adds, "and more like a guardian of the Tenth Vongola once in a while!" 

The smile had disappeared from Yamamoto's face somewhere in the midst of everything, but it returns now a little gentler, a little more private this time. "Yeah, I know," he says, sitting up on his elbows. _Fond_ , he's so fond. "But hey, I'm all right," he continues. One hand, he lifts and briefly touches the bump on his head. "Don't worry, okay?"

There's a split second in which Gokudera looks... relieved. Yamamoto doesn't even blink for fear of missing it, and he memorizes it and tucks it somewhere inside his chest, maybe as a cushion between his heart and his ribs whenever Gokudera gets too close.

"I'm not fucking worried," is the growled response, and that's when Yamamoto sees the back of him until he disappears behind a slammed door.

Underneath that door, Yamamoto can see the shadows of Gokudera's feet stop, still for a moment, and then those too disappear. 

With a breathless almost-giggle, Yamamoto lowers himself back onto the floor, covering his eyes with one hand, the corners of his lips alternating between a smile and a frown because he can't quite pin down exactly how he feels. There is one thing he knows for sure, though.

"He took the remote with him," Yamamoto whispers to himself. Took Yamamoto's breath, too.

Didn't take his heart, though, because how could anyone take something they already have?

**Author's Note:**

> the author also extends an i.o.u. to laura - redeem it for an 8059 smut fic of your choice! and there's no expiration date. c:


End file.
